


Ballroom Etiquette

by saltedearthsch



Series: The Raven and The Nightingale [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Ballroom Dancing, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Denial of Feelings, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, and does dumb stuff bc ale, but sumire doesnt stop him either, sid is emotionally constipated, there are others involved but they're barely there so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:02:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21915703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltedearthsch/pseuds/saltedearthsch
Summary: the dzemaels host a masquerade for all saints' wake. sidurgu thinks it's a bad idea for sumire to go.
Relationships: Sidurgu Orl/Original Character(s), Sidurgu Orl/Warrior of Light
Series: The Raven and The Nightingale [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578472
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Ballroom Etiquette

**Author's Note:**

> This idea once again brought to you by amandaterasu. If you don't know her, please check her out here or on Twitter!
> 
> This is written for my ship between my WoL, Sumire Oshiga, and Sid, but feel free to mentally replace her with yourself~

“A masquerade? Really?”

Edmont chuckled. “You may recall that House Dzemael has something of a flair for the dramatic. What better celebration of All Saints’ Wake than an over the top dance conducted in gaudy masks?”

Sumire sipped thoughtfully at her tea. “Not precisely how I’d planned to celebrate. But I could suffer a few hours of Ishgardian politics for House Fortemps, I suppose.” The former count’s lips formed a grateful smile, but something about it did not sit right with her.

“That won’t be necessary. Artoirel will represent us well enough, and the event is open to the public.” Her eyebrows arched in surprise.

“Public? Then why approach me about it so formally?”

“The Dzemaels wish to extend an _official_ invitation to the Warrior of Light, it seems.” He looked uncomfortable even just delivering the message, and the only sound that followed was the clink of her cup meeting its saucer. Everyone in the room could sense her displeasure with the revelation.

“I see.” Of course they wanted the spectacle of being able to say the Hero of Ishgard was in attendance, even if in disguise. They did not want _her,_ but the figure of legend she had been slowly becoming. How incredibly infuriating. After a few moments’ thought, however, she smirked at Edmont.

“Would you be able to send my RSVP to Lord Dzemael?” He seemed surprised.

“Are you certain my dear?” Her smirk turned mischievous.

“Absolutely. Please let Lord Dzemael know that _Sumire Oshiga_ would be most pleased to accept his invitation.” 

* * *

“Why the hell would you want to go to some stuffy dance hosted by someone who makes no secret of their lack of love for you and yours?” Sidurgu asked over his flagon. If his long-winded query was not enough, his tone was genuinely baffled. She offered only a shrug in answer.

“Because it sounds like fun.” 

“Do you even have time for it?” Rielle slapped his shoulder and he grunted, lifting his drink again.

“Ignore him,” the Elezen girl clipped breezily, leaning across the table with stars in her eyes. “What about a dress? Have you decided what you’ll be dressing as?” Sumire made an irritated noise, taking a long pull of her own drink and gagging at the bitter taste. She needed to stop letting Sid order drinks for them.

“When he received my acceptance,” she began curtly, shoving the tankard at Sid, who grabbed it without looking, “Lord Dzemael had some gaudy monstrosity sent over. It was not my taste.”

“What was it?” Rielle pressed, curious. Sumire scowled.

“A dragon.” Both her companions grimaced, though Sid added a scoffed _Idiot._

“I’ll help you!” Rielle exclaimed, grabbing her hands excitedly. “I’m sure we can come up with something dazzling!”

“What about you, Rielle? It is open to the public if you’re so eager to be part of it.” The girl shook her head sadly.

“I think it’s best if I continue to stay under the radar for now.” Ah. Sumire knew she spoke true -- even with Ystride out of the picture, there was no guarantee that others like her were not lurking and waiting for their chance to strike. It was why she and Sid had stayed by her side, after all.

“You ought to be doing the same, you know.” Both women cast baffled glances at Sid, who was glaring at them again. “Going into a vipers’ nest is dangerous already, but letting them know you’re coming? You’re asking for trouble, nightingale.” Normally the nickname made her flush with gleeful embarrassment, but in this moment all she felt was frustration.

“I’m well aware of the risks, Orl.” The frosty clip of her words made both Rielle and Sid shift uncomfortably. “But I can also take care of myself.” The scrape of wood echoed in the small pub as she shoved her chair back and stood, this time pointedly addressing only Rielle.

“I shall be staying at the Manor through the ball.” Then she stormed off, tossing gil on the counter before Gibrillont on the way out. The bartender swept up the coin and squinted knowingly at their table.

“You absolute idiot!” Rielle snapped. Snatching the tankard from Sid’s hand, she drained it and slammed it down, then followed after the other woman. Alone with his thoughts, Sid glowered at the table grain in confusion.

* * *

Twice more in the weeks leading to the masque, Lord Dzemael sent “suggested attire” to Fortemps Manor, addressed to the Warrior of Light. Each time, she sent the items back. The second time this happened, however, the outfit had been made to resemble Lady Shiva, and she nearly set it aflame. The wound of Ysayle’s loss in Azys Lla was still far too fresh to tolerate the disrespect, but Firmien merely took the package from her irate grip and handed it off to a page.

Instead, with the irrefutable help of the House Fortemps coffers, she had crafted something far more to her taste, but which would certainly still make a statement. Inspired by Rielle, she had an ebony gown crafted. Though simple in its draping silhouette and plunging neckline, it was layered in silk and taffeta. The bodice was encrusted with deep purple jewels, which swirled down across her skirt.

A sheer shawl draped across her back, attached to her arms by a pair of thin bracelets, as well as a pair of ragged wings. The look was completed by a half-mask that covered her face, paired with sweeping horns that disguised her own, the most obvious part of her declaration for the night that she was not herself, but a succubus.

Rielle squealed in delight when she stepped into the foyer, hurrying to grab her hands.

“You look ravishing!” Sumire laughed.

“I was going for _enthralling_.” She joked and Rielle giggled.

“That too.” The Elezen frowned. “Be safe tonight.” Behind the mask, Sumire’s hazel eyes rolled.

“I always am,” she insisted. At that moment, Firmien appeared, murmuring that the carriage that would take her and Artoirel to the estate was ready to depart. She cast Rielle one last shining smile, and followed the steward out, missing the worried look that crossed over her friend’s face.

* * *

Rielle skipped through the door of the Forgotten Knight, barely waving at Gibrillont. She made her way through the familiar halls to Sidurgu’s room and knocked. When no reply was forthcoming, she frowned and tried again. Still no answer.

“Sid?” A solid shove and the door gave way, much to her surprise. Hesitant steps carried her in. It appeared much the same as ever, save for two new details: an unusual number of tankards (even for him), and his standard armor. It was the last that had Rielle groaning and whirling on her heel.

“Sidurgu Orl, you truly _are_ an idiot!”

* * *

Dzemael Estate was located several malms from Foundation, closer to their pet project of Falcon’s Nest. It was only one of several, of course, and as it was largely unoccupied at the moment, it made for an excellent locale for an event such as this. There was no way after consuming as much ale as he had that Sidurgu was traveling there on his own, however, no matter the distances he had traversed on foot in the past. He muttered his thanks to the bird beneath him as it bounded through the snow.

Arriving outside the gates, he slid off the chocobo and trudged the remaining distance to the entrance. The dreadfully bored-looking lad greeting the guests didn’t give him a second glance as he slid his mask over his face and disappeared into the crowds.

He knew full well, of course, that Sumire was probably the most capable woman in Eorzea. Truly there was no real reason to follow her to an event he would not have otherwise attended, except that he could not shake the sense of worry that weaseled in when it came to her. Despite all her lauded titles, he had seen her crumble beneath the weight of them, of the things she had seen. And he would not stand by when something might happen to her if he could prevent it.

Now he just had to hope she wouldn’t catch on to his plans for the evening, or he may never even hear her reprimand him again.

* * *

With a soft crunch, Sumire descended the final step of the carriage, clutching at her skirt to keep it from meeting the snow beneath her shoes. Atoirel helped to stabilize her steps as they made their way up to the entrance of the manor. They were only as late as the fashion of high society (and the travel time) dictated, and yet there was light spilling onto the front entry, music and the sounds of chatter accompanying it even from where the servant at the door was bowing to greet them.

“Welcome, my lord, my lady.” He glanced up, and she saw a flicker of recognition dance across his face, and she fought back a sigh. It would seem that with Artoirel’s simpler disguise doing nothing of the sort, it was not hard to guess who his companion might be. Rather than make the biting remark that danced on her tongue, she smiled conspiratorially and put a finger to her lips. The servant nodded hurriedly and waved them in.

Once they were out of earshot but not yet in the ballroom where the cacophony emanated from, she allowed her bated sigh out, and turned to Artoirel. He was eyeing her with no small measure of mirth.

“What a burden it must be to be the greatest hero in the land,” he taunted, and she smacked his arm, smiling all the same.

“Being cheeky is unbecoming of you, Count Fortemps,” she demurred. “I think we should part ways here.” He gave her a questioning look.

“Are you certain?” Her eyes rolled behind her mask.

“Very. Surely you have some girl or another waiting within to dance with you, and I think I shall partake of the refreshments first.” He shrugged.

“If you insist.” A pause. “If you need me…” She waved him off.

“I’ll be sure to find you. Now go on!” It seemed he needed no further encouragement, turning away into the ballroom and leaving Sumire alone in the hallway. After a few moments and several deep breaths she followed suit.

She could feel the eyes of those near the entry as she came in, curious about the newcomer to the party. Polite smiles exchanged, she slipped through the crowds and found a place to stand near the laden tables of treats and drinks. A waiter passed by her with a tray of some kind of colored drink and she snatched a glass as he walked away, downing it easily and sighing at the empty glass.

“Not one for dancing?” The voice was all too familiar as it came from next to her, and all the feathers and fine clothing in the world could not disguise Aymeric de Borel from her. Smiling, she tilted her head towards him and shrugged lightly.

“I’ve only just arrived, so I’m not feeling up to it just yet.” His gaze tracked across the dance floor, watching other party-goers whirl across, while others milled about the room laughing and chatting.

“Waiting for someone in particular?”

“Not for anyone I’d expect to be in attendance.” Aymeric chuckled knowingly. The Lord Speaker had stumbled upon her secret affections sometime ago when he’d attempted to champion his own. He had been one of scarce few to be privy to the secret she guarded so closely, most particularly from the knight whom it regarded.

As she opened her mouth to ask him something else, a gaggle of ladies who had been lurking just out of earshot made their move, swarming Aymeric the Blue and whisking him away from her. He cast a single pleading glance her way but she simply laughed and wiggled her fingers at him, mouthing “Good luck” at his agonized face.

After his departure, several others came up to speak with her. It was startling how relieved she was to realize that most of them had no clue who she was with the dramatic outfit she had donned for the evening. If any recognized her, they said nothing. The conversations were mostly stale pleasantries in the name of etiquette, but she found herself enjoying the normalcy of the inane banter anyway.

Her most recent visitor had just merged back into the tumultuous crowds, and she received a few moments more to contemplate her next drink and whether she would in fact peel herself off the wallpaper long enough to join the merriment. Just as she was beginning to make her decision, another presence made itself known beside her. Similar to Aymeric, the looming height struck her as familiar, as did the way they leaned against the wall next to her. Silence reigned for several long moments, and she began to think that perhaps they had just been looking to escape the revelry like she.

“Did your escort leave you to dance, my lady?” Her gaze whipped to the side to properly evaluate her new companion, shock making her eyes wide as she regarded him. The light made it difficult to truly see his eyes, but there was no mistaking that voice. She knew it almost as well as her own. Swallowing, she glanced away and smiled shakily.

“I shooed him off when we arrived - he was an escort in name only, anyhow.” She glanced surreptitiously at him. “What of yourself, sir?” He shrugged.

“I arrived alone, and will most likely leave the same. But I couldn’t say no to a night of celebration like this.” They both looked to the crowd. With the later hours, the amount of movement on the floor had increased, intoxication and lack of inhibition leading many to give into the revelry of All Saints’ Wake. 

“Have you had the chance to dance, my lord?” Her heart thundered in her ears as the question slipped unbidden from her lips, and she nearly cursed herself for it. But he seemed not to notice her own misgivings and tilted his head.

“Not as of yet,” his eyes slid her way, and she knew without words that just as she knew him, he knew her, “but perhaps you might do me the honor?” She hesitated only long enough to place her empty glass nearby, lest she shatter it with her shaking fingers.

“I would be delighted,” she managed, holding out her hand to him, and he took it gently in his own. Head swirling almost as fast the other ladies' skirts, she let him pull her out onto the floor.

* * *

Sidurgu Orl, Knight of the Obsidian Heart, sworn enemy of the Temple Knights and frequent patron of the Forgotten Knight, had never felt so blessed by Halone in his life.

It had been simple chance that slinking to a table of drinks for something to take the edge off his nerves had led him to her. And of course he had known in a moment it _was_ her. Though she had stood nonchalantly in all her dark glory, her hair and slim stature were unmistakable. It had only taken her wide eyes meeting his to confirm it.

Relief at finding her well and excitement at the excuse to be so near to her outside of their sworn path had mixed into an uneasy supor in his stomach. Even with his mind still vaguely clouded he knew he ought to have walked away. But when she asked him about dancing, there had been no question in his mind that he would be staying beside her as long as he could.

Addled mind notwithstanding, he found the thrill of holding her so intimately was causing him to lose track of the music, and though his did his best to lead, their steps were clumsy at best. She made no complaint however, merely tightened her grip in his and tugged gently to tell him where to go. They made several sets of steps in silence, and it was only when the dance called for him to watch as she twirled away and back again, that he finally broke the silence.

“You seem on edge, my lady. Are you not enjoying yourself?” She seemed taken aback by the question, and he was just relieved it was not his stiffly formal speech that caused it. So far it had served well to disguise her from him, and he planned to continue the ruse as long as possible. When he had turned them into the next steps, she bit her lip to speak. He had to inhale quietly to keep control at the sight.

“I am… unaccustomed to large crowds that are not comprised of those meaning to do me ill,” she hedged. Ah, so she was attempting to keep herself concealed as well. He could do her that much service by pretending to be unknowing.

“You make it sound as if you lead a difficult life,” he remarked, nearly missing a step that would have sent them into another pair if she hadn’t corrected him.

“It is not easy, no. But I don’t suppose any soldier finds war easy.” The words were stated matter-of-fact, making it clear she would say no more. He hummed understandingly, pulling her close when a couple that was far more out of sorts than them and doing some sort of odd jig nearly careened into them.

“Paths of strife are never easily walked,” he murmured after a few moments, and her gaze when it met his veritably tore at him. In that moment, he so vehemently wished she had never crossed his path - not for lack of desire to have met her, but because it could have saved her so much heartache. She had told him the tales of her struggles, had fought beside her in many. Would that he could have offered her more than simple friendship to ease the burdens thrust upon her. 

But he couldn’t. His brilliantly shining nightingale had no place on the path of darkness he tread. He had seen what it had wrought in her even during her brief stint with him and when she had wept to him about its consequences, he swore to keep her far from it. Though he may not be able to protect her from all the things that she faced, this much he would do.

“Do you often hit on young ladies by making fun of their struggles?” He couldn’t help but snort at that, and was glad to see her smiling teasingly as well. 

“Is that how it seemed? My apologies. I simply wanted to know more about you.” She hummed, sounding unconvinced.

“You could ask any number of other questions then.” 

“Such as?” She thought for a moment as the crossed the floor again.

“Which House do you hail from, my lord?” Another scoff.

“I’m not considered nobility. But I had rather hoped to charm a lady into thinking otherwise this evening.” She laughed, full and genuine, at that, and he felt his heart clench. So rarely had he gotten to hear the sound of it, and he couldn’t help grinning as they spun once more.

“Are you _that_ confident in your ability to be charming?”

“Would you say I haven’t been?”

“I would say you’ve been passable.” He gasped, feigning offense.

“Only passable? Your standards must be very high, then.” She smirked.

“Or your talent is not as developed as you’d hoped.” He tugged her closer, dropping his voice so only she could hear, relishing in the sharp intake of breath it pulled from her.

“What would you recommend as improvement, _my lady_?” She swallowed.

“I would say this is a good start,” she managed. He chuckled.

“So there’s still room for improvement then?”

“Isn’t there always?” Sidurgu slid his hands to her waist, hoisting her up and over as the dance dictated. When she was on her feet again, he tugged her closer and without thinking pressed her lips to his. She stilled for a moment, and then her arms were around his neck and she softened beneath him, and _by the Fury he was kissing her_. And it was as soft and warm as the summer she had been born in, and she tasted of bittersweet rolanberry wine and he knew he could never get as drunk off anything else ever again.

She let out a quiet gasp when he finally released her, eyes wild behind her mask, and he breathless too. He only realized this had put them flush against each other when he caught sight of the blush coloring Sumire’s cheeks. There was no suppressing his elation, but he couldn’t help the tinge of worry at the conflict slowly filling her face. 

“Are you alright?” The question was hushed, brushing against her horn as he leaned down. She nodded mutely, staring at a button on the dress clothes he’d forced himself to wear for the evening. It was then he realized they’d come to a standstill, and rather than begin moving through the motions of dancing again, he pulled her back toward the wall and away from the dance floor. 

* * *

Once tucked away in the shadows, he pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, but Sumire couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. When she would not do so, however, he reached out and tilted her chin up. She could feel her heart thundering and her blood roaring as he gazed gently down at her.

“Too far?” Sidurgu asked, but she shook her head, deceptive denial with the way her chest seemed to be heaving. Had it always been this warm in here? Had _he_ always been this intense? Of course he had, her mind told her, but it had always been focused on their work, not so singularly directed at her. And suddenly she had found herself altogether forgetting the ability to breathe beneath the weight of it.

“I’m fine,” she whispered finally, closing her eyes as he brushed a few fallen strands of her elaborate hair away from her face. Even that simple touch sent her pulse racing, the skin that had shared the briefest of contact with his immediately turning to flame. She could not be further from “fine” in this moment than even facing Nidhogg - at least the wyrm had been an enemy she could defeat through sheer force. There was nothing but words and wit to save her here, and they were failing her spectacularly.

“Should I leave you be?” The question had her mind spinning in conflict.

“No,” she said hurriedly, then buried her face in her hands. “I mean yes - I don’t know!” He reached out, easily capturing her wrists to pull her weak cover away. It was impossible to mistake the aqua hue of his limbal eyes now that the bright lights of the room weren’t so directly on him, and she swallowed thickly. 

“What do you want me to do?” 

Time seemed to stop, and a million thoughts, what-ifs, and stern warnings from Edmont ran through her head at once. It seemed her indecision had spoken for her though, as he nodded stiffly and began to fully retreat from her. Panicking, she rushed across the space between them and nigh on tossed herself at him. He was clearly surprised, but still caught her as she knew he would, just in time for her to slam her mouth into his.

Unlike she, Sidurgu was quick to relent to her, accepting her hungry kiss and meeting it with his own longing. He cradled her against him, swiping his tongue across her lip and she felt her knees go weak as she parted her lips for him. Her mind swam, warm and heady with the gleeful lust of finally _finally_ tasting him. And sure it was mostly the bitter wash of alcohol, but it was also the warmth of the night by the fire and a million other things she had once thought could be more comforting than this. Twelve, how wrong she had been.

It’s the sound of her name that rips the fantasy to shreds, and with horror she stumbles back from him. He comes to much slower than her, the need and desire draining from his eyes just a few moments later, allowing it to wash over her and chip at her own will. But she can see Artoirel in the crowds nearby now, and knows that it is her cue, her pumpkin carriage come calling.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to him, and then dashes after the Count, resisting the urge to grab Sidurgu and hide instead. When she taps Artoirel’s elbow he seems surprised, and she puts on her best demure smile, hoping to all the gods that he can’t tell what she had nearly done.

“There you are! Sorry I know you were trying to be discreet but we hadn’t decided on a meeting place and--” 

“It’s fine, it’s almost the end of the night anyhow,” she breezed, grabbing his arm and beginning to make for the entry. “That’s why you were looking for me, right?” He nodded.

“Sorry to spoil your fun, but it’s a long journey back so I thought an early start would do us good.”

“Yes,” she agreed, casting one last look over her shoulder at the entrance to the ballroom, “I really think it would.”

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh I love these two so much ;-; Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. 
> 
> If you want to see me scream about FF & my favorite characters, find me on Twitter @ saltedearthsch!


End file.
